Hwoarang Mishima
by YaoiCookie
Summary: Kazuya has it in his head that his son needs a wife. Unfortunately for a penniless Hwoarang, who's master is in critical condition at a high end hospital, he almost perfectly fits the criteria.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** Possible Incest, Possible Kazuya x Hwoa x Jin, Possible Kazuya x Hwoa instead of Jin x Hwoa, Experimentation, **NO** MPREG or Gender-switch, but there is something strange that will happen in the future

**More Warnings: **Will probably never be updated, this story is merely one of the many I have written on my comp that I've dusted off to allow the world to view. Check my profile for adoption data, challenge info, et cetera...who actually spells that anyway? If I do continue this, updates will be slow in coming. However, do note that I still have one more chapter of this story written.

**Summary:** Kazuya has it in his head that his son needs a wife. Unfortunately for a penniless Hwoarang, who's master is in critical condition at a high end hospital, he almost perfectly fits the criteria.

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><p>Kazuya Mishima silently stared outside of his office window.<p>

The world had long since been tossed into a power struggle between the three major factions, one of which he'd joined, and one that his own son ruled over with an iron fist. His son…With a sigh, Kazuya leaned back in his chair and contemplated the enigma that was his son. Jin Kazama-no, Mishima now-had become a tyrant, attempting to expand his rule through the nation that struggled back and was crushed time and time again. To be honest, he was very proud of him.

However, what annoyed Kazuya the most about his son was the lack of children around him. Granted, taking rule over a nation was time consuming and pleasing, but what if someone managed to kill his son over a lucky shot? Jin was all of twenty three years old, but he was still a child when it came to his inner Devil, it still ruled him at times. He didn't realize how valued and sought after his genes were to become; Kazuya had, that's why he'd had a child with Jun.

Well, had a child rather forcibly, but he'd continued the line nonetheless.

He'd had hopes in the beginning that Jin would have children without being forced, but the Xiaoyu girl had failed in her attempts to capture his son's heart. Kazuya was both annoyed and relieved to have had such an episode pass (imagining her genes added to his bloodline made him shudder; Mishima's were not meant to be overly hyper and cute), but the girl hadn't even gotten Jin to turn his head. Asuka Kazama, a rather distant relation to Jun surprisingly, had also failed; though she figured that Jin was some pervert out to get her. How she got that idea Kazuya would never know; after all, if Jin was a pervert then he wouldn't have to worry about future heirs.

A lot of beautiful and strong women had entered the King of Iron-Fist Tournaments, but none had ever turned Jin's head more than once. The only person that had actually done that was Hwoarang, the little Korean nobody that had somehow managed to keep on par with his son's human form, but naturally fell behind his Devil. Despite that, however, the Korean seemed more excited than anything and was even now practicing to get better. To be honest, Kazuya rather liked Hwoarang; he was strong, determined and willing to put up with his son's brooding ways (so many others weren't). He'd also managed to become a friend to and even _best_ his son's human form in a match! On the scale of things, Hwoarang was the perfect daughter-in-law.

He only had the pesky misfortune of being born a male.

Red gleamed in Kazuya's eyes as he stared at the city below and anyone who looked at him would see an angry and bitter man. Truth was, he was sulking, because he doubted his son was remotely interested in making babies. How had his flesh and blood become enamored with the male species? He blamed Heihachi; his old man had probably risen his son to think that women had cooties just to spite him. Ah, if only he were younger and his sperm more potent…But that was neither here nor there. This was about his foolish son and the dwindling Mishima bloodline.

There was nothing to it, though, as the solution was painfully obvious to him; He had to help his son find a wife. Kazuya sat in his chair and picked up a file, opening it to see the scowling face of Hwoarang. Ah, the boy was a rather rugged beauty, all sharp edges and rough outlines who begged to be reformed into a perfect jewel. There was still that pesky issue of the Korean being male, but the scientist were already working on a solution to that. Flipping through the file brought forth many different positions of the boy with dyed red hair, from relaxing, to practicing, to fighting on the streets; the boy hadn't even realized he was being watched.

A beep alerted him to his cell phone receiving a text message, making him sigh as he sat the file down; he'd been through it so many times these past few months that it didn't matter anyway. He could remember it by heart. Bored eyes glanced over the message, the words not really registering the first way through, before his eyes widened in shock as he quickly read through it again. A smile threatened to overcome his face as he closed the phone, satisfaction rushing through him.

"Minato?" Kazuya pushed a button on his phone, addressing his secretary at once.

"Yes, Mishima-sama?"

"Cancel all appointments today."

"Yes sir."


	2. Chapter 2

**The final chapter I have written on my comp; may still continue this story as, I admit, it is one of my favs...**

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><p>Hwoarang was currently having the most shittiest day of his life.<p>

No, scratch that, he was having the shittiest year of his life. It had started months ago, just minutes after finally beating Jin Kazama in a match; of course, at the time that match had been the highlight of his life. Granted, it hadn't been in front of a million fans like Hwoarang had hoped, but it had been a magnificent fight that had given him back the confidence he'd been so wrongly robbed of. And Jin had even congratulated him and…treated him like a friend.

Hwoarang had been on top of the world then; he'd beaten his rival and gained another friend (much as it would shock people to know, he was a pretty social person). Then Jin had come back for him and…No, that hadn't been Jin; the _monster_ that had taken over Jin had tracked him down, trashed his motorcycle (that he'd spent so long making) and beat his ass in a matter of minutes. Spiteful red eyes had glared down at the injured man for the longest, waiting for him to get up, though Hwoarang had only asked him _why._

"_Fear the wrath of God," _the demon had spat, then there was a boot to his face and he knew no more.

Indeed, for a short while Hwoarang was ashamed to admit that he had been terrified at the beast that Jin had become. He'd been beaten so quickly that it felt as though their previous fights had all been jokes. All of the training he'd been through, the dedication and time he'd put in to best Jin, and the asshole had been lying to him about his true strength. Sitting uselessly in the hospital, Hwoarang had seethed in indignation, hurt and shame for a month, before he realized that he was being a pussy and he vowed to beat Jin's ass once again.

_No one dismisses me!_

Then the world went crazy and Jin began to take over, using that no good, disgusting, trashy Mishima Zaibatsu to finance the creation of his own army. The moment he'd gotten feeling back into his legs, Hwoarang begged Master Baek to train him in everything that he could. His old master, mentor and, though he'd never said or admitted it aloud, father figure had agreed to teach him at once and took him into hiding, considering Jin's offering of a reward for anyone who could bring him in alive. To be honest, Hwoarang was rather flattered that he'd gotten the now officially crazy man to have a vendetta against him; _didn't feel too good to be beaten by someone you deemed weaker than you, did it, Jin?_

It had only been a few months since then, since Jin had placed a bounty on his person, and Master Baek had saved Hwoarang's miserable hide time and time again from those desperate enough to actually seek that bounty on his head. Many were people he'd never seen before, thus making him suspicious, jumpy and constantly alert. Others were faces he knew and couldn't believe he was seeing again; Nina and Anna were always out for "quick cash." If it hadn't been for Master Baek, Hwoarang was sure that he would have been captured just moments after Jin's announcement.

And now his master had been reduced to this.

The sterile air of the hospital was a stench that he could have done without and the steady ticking of the heart monitor was making him twitchy. His right leg bounced as he sat in an uncomfortable chair at Baek's bedside, his head moving slightly as it was cupped in his hands, the elbows of which were sitting loosely on his thighs. Many that went by the room would be fooled into believing that Hwoarang was reflecting on the man laying in the bed, covered in third degree burns and breathing through a tube shoved down his throat. They would only be partially right.

In fact, Hwoarang couldn't even muster up the courage to look at, let alone think about the state his master was in and how it was _all his fault!_ So instead, he thought about the hospital bill and how he was going to afford it. Because Baek didn't have health insurance, considering the recent war and the budget cuts and everything, and Hwoarang didn't have any sort of insurance, because he'd always been too cool for it. He choked back a bitter sob, leg bouncing quicker as anxiety hit him. Neither he nor Baek had any money and the hospital wasn't a cheap place to be.

And they wouldn't have been there in the first place had he not…had he not…! Long fingers combed through red hair as Hwoarang allowed himself to sigh, knowing that ignoring it would do no good. Baek's injuries, the expensive hospital bill; all of it was his fault. He, after all, hadn't listened to his wise master. Baek had told him to wear a disguise, to let the dye fade from his hair, change his clothing style and _act like a person being hunted_ after Jin had put out the hunt for him. But Hwoarang had been cocky, arrogant, and foolish by not believing that anyone would resort to dangerous measures bring him in, _could_ bring him in.

He didn't take the threat of being captured seriously and, because of that, Master Baek was in a coma. A coma that he wasn't likely to wake from. Sure, the doctor hadn't said those words outright, but he'd hinted at it too much for it to not be a possibility. Despite being fit and healthy, Baek was still an old man; with the added stress of broken bones, a skull fracture, third degree burns and possible mental trauma, there was no guarantee that Baek would walk away from the hospital with his life.

They'd rushed him into medical care the moment they could, but Hwoarang knew the treatments would stop if he revealed he couldn't pay the money. Unfortunately, the only jobs that would help him were in the adult industries, considering the cash he would need was that of thousands and quick, and he didn't have the best of records to get a legitimate job either. The thought of selling himself off for cash caused a cold bead of sweat to roll down his back, though the steady and offsetting beep of the machine strengthened his resolve.

_Consider it your wake up call,_ he mentally berated himself, resisting the urge to hold Baek's lifeless hand for comfort at his inner thoughts. _You got him into this mess, it's only fair that you make sure he gets out._ Bitterly, Hwoarang wondered if he could turn himself in to Jin for that bounty, though scraped the idea at once. There was no telling what that crazy bastard wanted him for and _he_ certainly wanted to live to see the day Baek opened his eyes again. His bouncing leg stopped as he began to wonder who to go to, to get a job like that, knowing that he couldn't ask his old gang to connect him.

It was bad enough that they'd more than likely be seeing him starring in their next stolen porno.

A faint commotion wafted through the closed doors and Hwoarang tensed in anxiety, for once hoping that it wasn't a Bounty Hunter; no, the amusement at being sought after by Jin had long since faded away. Just as he was prepared to go check it out himself, the door to Baek's room opened and a man he hadn't been expecting to see walked inside. Kazuya Mishima, Jin Ka-_Mishima's_ father. Dread danced through the Korean's bones as he quickly stood, hands balling into fists as he began to bounce on his feet.

"Don't make me get hostile," Mishima stated coolly, peering at the redhead from under dark sunglasses. "Drop your stance before I do something you'll regret, boy." He took off his glasses to reveal dark eyes, before shooting a meaningful look to the occupied bed Hwoarang was prepared to fiercely protect. Scowling, he allowed the bounce to leave his steps, though he kept his fighting stance as he glared at the intruding Mishima.

"What do you want?" Hwoarang questioned bitterly, mildly surprised at his own tone. Still, if this was another person out to kidnap him…

"To talk," Mishima stated, closing the doors behind him to the disappointment of the nosy staff that had tried to listen in. He brushed past Hwoarang, eying the slumbering form of Baek without a hint of sympathy. "You've had it rough, haven't you, Hwoarang?" There was no sympathy in his voice, either. The Korean glared at him, relaxing his stance slowly as the man sat in his uncomfortable chair, before he stiffly walked over to sit on Baek's bed.

"What do you want?" He repeated, finally giving into the urge to squeeze Baek's hand; he wondered if the man could feel it. If he could feel the cold clamminess and realize that his foolish student had finally grown up, even if it was at the expense of his own life. Mishima continued to eye the silent master, head tilted to the side as he contemplated what to say.

"Must you be so impatient?" He finally ventured loftily, eyes going to his nails. "I can guarantee you'll at least want to hear me out, considering it involves your current…financial crisis." Mishima shot a smug glance to Hwoarang's hand as it tightened around the comatose man's. "You see, I've been watching you, Hwoarang, keeping an eye out on your progression and skills, and, frankly, I like what I see." Mixed emotions flashed through the redhead's eyes at the admission, shame, anger, disbelief and flattery all a mix, before he felt disgust rise in him.

"Like what you see?" Hwoarang gave a snort. "Thanks but no thanks; you're old enough to be my father." _But didn't you already come to the conclusion that you'll sell your body for money?_ His treacherous mind mused. _Why take the harder road and risk AIDS with strangers when sticking with a single rich man will take off a heavy burden from your shoulders?_ Hwoarang forced the thoughts from his mind, feeling his face heat with shame as Mishima raised a brow at him.

"Oh, you're certainly pretty enough," Mishima mused, raking obvious eyes up the Korean's body. "And I would have gladly paid your bills for a bit of repeat action, but that's not what I was talking about."

"M'not pretty," Hwoarang muttered gruffly, though silently thanked the gods that Mishima was not offering money for him; it was hard enough knowing that he would have to eventually. To be faced with the decision so soon after his revelation would have been the worse blow his soul could take at the moment. His heart calmed considerably as curiosity reluctantly took over him. If Mishima wasn't there for…_that,_ then what could he possibly want from him? Asking himself wouldn't give him an answer, so he asked him. "What _do_ you want then, Mishima?"

"Please, call me Kazuya," the man gave a smile full of teeth. "And I want to offer you a proposition, Hwoarang." He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, the noise offsetting the beat of the heart monitor, before he seemed to nod. "I will pay for the hospital charges billed for Baek Do San, provided you do something for me." The redhead perked up with disbelief and doubt, though he said nothing as Mishi-_Kazuya_ held up a hand. "It's nothing illegal, I assure you. No killing, no rape, no sex, no drug dealings or even fighting others; just a simple task that I want you to do."

"And what's that?" Hwoarang wondered wearily, a tiny seed of hope in his chest. What could possibly be so important for him to do that the man was willing to pay off the expensive bill?

"I want you…" Kazuya gave another shark's grin. "To be my son." Silence, Hwoarang's eyes bulged in disbelief as the man took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, uncaring that he was breaking the No Smoking law. It was obvious that he was giving him time to think the offer over, but the redhead's mind was currently drawing a blank. _Be his…son? Really? What sort of nonsense…?_

"You already have a son," he pointed out rather lamely, a flush starting up his neck as he realized what he'd just said. Of course the man knew he had a son. Sure enough, Kazuya was looking at him in amusement, a brow raised mockingly. "I mean," he rolled his eyes, "why would you need me when you have a legitimate son?"

"As far as Jin is concerned, he's no son of mines," Kazuya shrugged, muscles hidden by his business suit momentarily revealed in the simple action; Hwoarang resisted the urge to flinch at the unintentional reminder of how dangerous the man was. "I need a strong heir, someone who will be dedicated to continuing on my legacy." He leaned back and crossed his ankles together, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth to flick the ashes on the pristine floor. "But don't misunderstand my offer; sure, you have a lot of qualities I value in a son, but you are also lacking in more."

"Then…what would I have to do to…" Hwoarang hesitated, still feeling a slight disbelief. "To be your son?" Kazuya took a deep drag of the cigarette, lips curving in satisfaction.

"Well, the most important of the requirements is that you have to finish your education; no child of mines will be…slum." He shot Hwoarang a meaningful look, making him bristle in indignation. "But not just a simple education; whatever you choose to study you must be your best; I require no less than perfection, however. Retaining a GPA of 4.0 is something I will _always_ expect, considering you'll have access to tutors at all hours of every day." Another plum of smoke. "You do not have to learn the Mishima fighting style, but a trainer will be provided for you so you do not lose your edge in fighting.

"Another thing that you must know is how to cook and dress." He held up a silencing hand as Hwoarang opened his mouth to speak. "As my son, you have a public image to uphold, and thus how you present yourself reflects on me. Also, my family has many people out to get them; learning to cook your own meals will lessen homicide attempts as no one will be able to poison what you cook yourself." He cracked his neck and allowed silence to envelope them as he took a moment to enjoy his smoke and let Hwoarang absorb the information.

"As, erm, _simple_ as that sounds," Hwoarang mumbled, rolling his eyes in disgust as his body portrayed his true thoughts on the matter, "what the hell makes you think that _I_ would want to be your son? Quite frankly, I hate your family." Kazuya chuckled at the unabashed admittance.

"Aside from me paying for Baek's care from now until he's completely healed at the best hospital money can buy?" Put like that, Hwoarang felt a bit stupid for his slight protest. "My son gets an allowance to spend of one hundred thousand dollars a month, the access to the latest cars, contacts to further yourself in any venture of life and the prestige of the Mishima name. Yes," he nodded to Hwoarang's stunned look. "You will have to take on the Mishima name."

"Hwoarang Mishima sounds stupid," he muttered in disgust, though he knew that the offer was too good to pass up. It was a great deal better than going into the porn business; he was proud of his body, true, but such a thing had never been something he was comfortable with. Kazuya cocked a brow at him.

"Are you willing to change your first name?"

"No!"

"Then Hwoarang Mishima sounds perfect to me." Kazuya chuckled, snapping open a phone and putting it to his ear with a quick push of a button. "Minato, have floor forty two cleared of all personal and made into a room quarter. Then send word for Kyo to be ready for a complete remodel. When that's done, feel free to take the rest of the day off." He snapped the phone shut after a moment, then leaned back in satisfaction, eying Hwoarang with a smug look on his face. "Ready for a bit of shopping, son?" The Korean gagged.

"I don't have to call you father, do I?"

"No," Kazuya assured to his short lived relief as the door opened to admit a doctor. "I prefer daddy." Left to his thoughts, Hwoarang absently listened as Kazuya and the doctor discussed moving arrangements for Baek, stunned at the fortuitous event that had just taken place. Granted, it was far from what he'd ever thought of or wanted for himself, and he hated the Mishima name, but for his master…for the man he had always considered his father, the man who was injured seriously because of his arrogant pupil, it was worth the hassle.

_I swear to you, father, I'll make sure you'll live to scold me another day. _He gripped Baek's hand, relieved to feel the warmth from within. _I'll show you how much I've grown up and how mature I've become, and I'll tell you how much you mean to me and how stupid I've been, this I swear to you._

As it was, Hwoarang wasn't sure he wasn't having some sort of strange dream as he watched Baek's body wheeled into another ambulance on a gurney, whilst he himself was numbly led to an awaiting limo. Kazuya placed a steadying hand on Hwoarang's shoulder, though the hotheaded Korean was too numb to notice it or he would have shrugged it off, even as he continued to tell him of the new duties he would be partaking in, rather, the consequences of failing said duties.

"Slacking off on cooking will lower your allowance," Kazuya was murmuring, flipping through a book on the opposite seat of the limo. It was obvious that he'd been planning this for a long time. "Slacking on your appearance loses freedom privileges; no driving, leaving the house, et cetera. Slacking in school, however, will revoke my generous offer to help Baek." Hwoarang stiffened, though he continued to look out of the window as the man, his new _father_, continued down the list. "You may keep your hair dyed and submit to a series of weekly tests in the labs. You'll also be receiving a test every two months in the subjects that you've studied to see how far you've come along in school and where you struggle at. Any questions?"

"How much time do I have before I'm forced into school?" He wondered.

"No one's forcing you, my son," Kazuya pointed out, though the smirk on his face made it quite clear that he knew Hwoarang's only other option was less than pleasing to him. "But, considering your lack in scholar activities, I will place upon you the limited time of four months until I sign you up for classes. Would you like a list of what subjects you wish to learn about?" The redhead nodded, accepting the list with sharp eyes as he forced his tongue to remain limp. There were many subjects on the paper, most of which Hwoarang passed without a second glance, before something finally caught his eyes.

Doctor.

How much safer would Baek had been had Hwoarang knew about the medical field? Knew that he shouldn't have moved his head and shook him to see if he would awake? Hands shaking slightly, he turned the page to see what classes would be mandatory to take to become a doctor and felt a curl of disgust pass his lips before he could stop it. Math, Science and so many other subjects; things that he'd never cared for. Still, he'd expected the list to be longer. "Most of the lessons you'll receive will be at home," Kazuya, as if reading his mind, explained. "Etiquette, business, cooking; I will provide you with the tools and professors you need to learn."

"I see…"

"Of course, if you need or want to learn anything that isn't listed, then you'll need to let me know yourself." He stared at Hwoarang knowingly, making him bristle silently. _Why do I get the feeling that he knows I need extra courses?_

"Reading and writing," Hwoarang admitted through grit teeth, his eyes lowering as his fist clenched, familiar anger coursing through him. It took a willpower he didn't realize he had to not lash out and kick the smug look off the man's face. "I still struggle with kanji and I can't read as well as I speak." Kazuya nodded absently as he penciled it in on his paper. "Where are we going?" The hothead changed the subject, fervently hoping to calm his steadily rising temper.

"Shopping," Kazuya murmured, a grin of amusement on his face. "You need a new wardrobe." When Kazuya had said he'd had an image to maintain, Hwoarang hadn't really understood; he thought for sure he meant that every time he was to go outside he needed a suit on or something. As annoying as it would have been, Hwoarang was prepared to sacrifice for Baek's sake, but this…

"Ain't kimonos for women?" Hwoarang wondered, doubtfully holding the black silky garment in his hand. He'd been in the clothing shop for almost an hour now, left to the tender mercy of an obvious homo called Kyo. The man was determined to make him "pop" like no other and was also about to get kicked in the face for the insult he'd just shoved in the Korean's hands. Granted, it was pretty, a black backdrop with a red phoenix flying around it, but it wasn't a garb for men.

"Men wear kimonos," Kazuya stated, not even looking up from his magazine. He'd been on his cell phone and ordering things since the time they'd come in.

"I ain't one of 'em," the redhead insisted, his grammar suffering as fury began to engulf him. Dark eyes peered up at him briefly.

"You are now," Kazuya pointed out, flipping the page. "And you will be required to wear it for festivals and whatnot."

"Why can't I wear a hakama then, if we're goin for old fashion?" He continued insistently. "I ain't stupid, ya know? I ain't never seen Jin wearing no damn kimono!"

"Jin was raised by Heihachi and, as I said before, he has never considered himself my son." Kazuya peered up at him again. "By the way, your speaking is atrocious and your attitude isn't winning you any favors; keep it up and you'll be grounded for a month." Hwoarang blinked, before he snapped his mouth shut with a click and glared daggers at the unfazed man. "Kyo, make sure to get him twenty kimonos," the uncaring man said as he flipped through the catalog again. "Five formal, five festive and ten casual; I trust your judgment."

"Yes sir!" When the torture of being fitted and matched to different shoes, clothes and fabrics was finally over (after a good two hours of suffering), Hwoarang found himself in a hair salon, getting praised over his well kept hair. Flushing lightly as Kazuya stared him over with amused eyes, he said nothing as the women behind him lamented on his lack of split ends and tangles. It was only further proof to himself that he'd been a foolish child, caring more about looks then his and Baek's safety. He'd only interrupted at Kazuya's rather offhand comment, embarrassment and shame forgotten as annoyance shot through him.

"Why I gotta grow out my hair?" He snapped, jerking free of the now gasping lady's hands.

"I think you meant to say, why do I have to grow my hair out?" Kazuya corrected him, eyes still in a catalog. "And as to why, you're my heir; The heir of the family has to have long hair. And before you say it, please remember that Jin was raised by Heihachi."

"What about Lee then?" The redhead snapped. "I ain't never seen him with no long hair!"

"He cut it after he found out that Heihachi only adopted him to make me jealous." The words were blunt and straightforward, deadpanned so fast that Hwoarang had no choice but to believe him. "Now hush, daddy's on the phone." The girls giggled and the Korean flushed, swallowing down the angry swear that bubbled in his throat. _Son of a bitch!_

After getting his hair washed and combed, then his nails filed (despite his horrified protests), Kazuya, surprisingly, took Hwoarang to a market. "I want you to pick out some ingredients to make a few dishes," he explained, handing Hwoarang a basket. "The rest of the food will be delivered to our house." The redhead took the basket, uncomfortably shifting in his tailored slacks; Kazuya had insisted he wear a black business suit and sunglasses for the venture, considering he didn't want a Bounty Hunter to interrupt their…bonding.

Taking the basket, Hwoarang silently led them through the market, gritting his teeth as people looked their way with amazement, appreciation, suspicion or giggles, depending on their ages. Perhaps he wouldn't have been silently seething if it weren't for Kazuya's input as he shopped, the curious man wondering what he was grabbing the ingredients to make. "Kimchi," he'd snapped. "It's the only thing I know how to make successfully."

"Absolutely not," Kazuya had murmured, putting all of his ingredients back onto the shelf. "Jin doesn't like his food spicy."

"What?"

"I said, grab the ingredients to make soba." He'd lowered his glasses mockingly. "Or can you not hear so well?" Thankfully, when they'd finally finished the shopping trip, Kazuya took them to his new _home,_ which was a tall ass building with at least sixty floors to it. Floor forty two, as he'd been told, was to be his own little home, while Kazuya slept and worked on the floor above it. Despite that, however, he'd handed over their bags to a bellman and took Hwoarang to the basement floors, ignoring his curiosity with ease as they waited for Basement 6-A to let them off.

It was a familiar, sterile air that greeted Hwoarang's nose when the door opened, and the quietness in the air was equally as unsettling as the hospital he'd left just hours before. Kazuya silently led him to a door that needed fingerprints, retina scans, saliva, blood, a card swipe, a vocal password and a typed one just to enter, before gently pushing Hwoarang forward when the door opened. "This is my own personal medical labs," he explained, walking the Korean through. "I only employ the best of the best and it's surrounded by topnotch security. Baek is in here."

"Then I-"

"You have yet to be keyed into the scans," Kazuya continued, pretending as though he hadn't heard him. "And your attitude will show how long it takes for you to be keyed into them." He stopped them by a glass window which showed Baek inside, sleeping on a comfortable bed with all sorts of medical gadgets connected to him. The redhead felt his breath catch, though he felt oddly detached at the sight and even forgot to get angry when Kazuya rubbed his head gently. "I brought you down here so you can remember what you're working for and why; do not make the same mistakes now as you have then.

"You can spend some time with him tonight." Nodding, the Korean slipped into the medical room after Kazuya swiped his card, sitting down on the bed next to his silent master. He gripped Baek's hand, once again relieved to feel that it was still warm, before he let out a breath of air.

"I just saw you about five hours ago, father," he mumbled, brushing down his hair after a moment of deliberation. "It's hard to believe so much has happened already. Can you believe that I'm a Mishima now? Me?" He chuckled softly, though he avoided looking at Baek's face. "I'm going to school and everything, the Blood Talon of Korea, going to school to get an education in first aid." He stopped himself, bringing a hand up to his wet cheek in surprise. _When did I…?_

"I'm going to study hard," he continued quietly, squeezing Baek's hand. "I'm going to make you proud of me. And when you wake up, I'll bet you'll be surprised to see me as an adult." Finally he looked at Baek's peaceful face, rubbing a hand across his eyes in sorrow. "You're missing so much, father," Hwoarang mumbled, before he finally gave in to the shudders and allowed himself to weep.

_Just this once,_ he thought to himself. _I'm sure father will understand._


End file.
